


Good Intentions

by muses_circle



Series: We All Fall series [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bribery, Canon Temporary Character Death, Cemetery, Demon, F/M, Gen, lying, post-season 3, pre-season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23452942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muses_circle/pseuds/muses_circle
Summary: Ruby makes an appearance during a particularly low moment in Sam's life. The repercussions could be deadly.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Series: We All Fall series [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1059086
Kudos: 1





	Good Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> Though I do not own Sam or Ruby, I do own the girl. Her mistakes are mine. With the others, please don’t sue. This takes place just after "Fear in A Handful of Dust", for reference purposes, during the summer Sam is alone and Dean is in hell.

**_Wyoming, ten days later . . ._**  
  
The old cowboy cemetery looked just as dreary and cold as the last time he had been there – when he and Dean were trying to keep the demons from getting out. At the time, Sam had thought that it was all about stopping the man who had been chosen as Yellow-Eyes’ ambassador to open the Devil’s Gate and release the demon army. The man who had killed him.  
  
_Shouldn’t that have been it?_ Sam asked himself as he approached the small building in the middle of the broken gravestones and damaged grounds. Hadn’t it been about killing the Yellow-Eyed Demon, getting even for what that thing had put his family through? Why hadn’t it ended with the demon’s death?  
  
_You know why, Sammy. We had to stop the demons, not play footsie with them._  
  
Sam looked around as the voice – familiar and intensely irritated – reverberated in his mind. Dean was dead, decaying in that shallow grave Sam and Bobby dug in Illinois. Running a hand over his face, he thought that maybe this time, he was losing it. The fact that he was using his brother’s voice to answer his questions was clearly an indication that he’d lost a few marbles. The way he had pushed himself the last two weeks, to find any demon to bargain with him; one that knew where to find Lillith; a demon to torture to glean information on getting Dean out of Hell; it went beyond human limits some days.  
  
And despite all his work, he had come up with very few leads. Sam wondered when or _if_ it would ever end.  
  
Nearly the only thing that held him back from seeking the ether himself was Emma: they had talked to each other nearly every day since parting ways in Illinois. Sam knew she was busy with her summer school schedule, as well as learning how to be an informant for hunters – he’d made sure to get the entire scoop over the course of the last week – and yet she still took time out of her day to talk to him if he called, or to even call him first. Part of him thought she did it out of friendly pity, to ensure that he was still alive and not in a ditch somewhere.  
  
A smaller part, though, said it was something else that kept her bound to him: Sam didn’t want to explore the nameless emotion, nor harbor the hope that, when this was all over, she would be waiting for his broken, scarred body and mind. He couldn’t be with her, not in a hundred years.  
  
With that depressing thought, Sam strode towards the Devil’s Gate and tossed the duffle he carried to the ground in front of it. First, he traversed the gate, judging that the iron lines he, Dean, and Bobby had forged and laid down were still in place. It had, after all, been a couple years, and at the time, they hadn’t wanted anything else having access to the door to hell – just in case there was another way to open it. Since the lines looked untouched, Sam went back to his duffel and opened it. He pulled out an old, worn book and stood up, turning to a page inside the text. Shutting his eyes, Sam focused on the task at hand and refused to think about the insanity of what he was trying to do. He had to find a way to get Dean out of Hell, even if it meant opening the gate and welcoming the rest of Hell onto the earth.  
  
Minutes passed as he intoned the Latin incantation he had found that, according to a medieval monk, could open the doors to hell just long enough to save an innocent soul. It was a long shot, but Sam was willing to try anything because this was the only lead he had left. His lips moved as he spoke the words, putting all of his energy and focus into opening the door and locating his brother.  
  
Around him, the nighttime grew darker and the wind suddenly whipped up in a torrent of sound. The harder he concentrated, the more intensely agitated the night became. Inside, Sam began to feel the surge of unknown power trying to break free and possess him, the same thing he’d experienced only a couple weeks ago. His head began to throb, but he kept reading, his voice growing louder with each word spoken, all his hopes put into this one act. If this couldn’t save Dean, then maybe nothing could.  
  
As he spoke the final lines, Sam struggled against the rush of adrenaline to his head and staggered backwards, nearly tripping over his feet. The power was hotter and pushing hard against his mind. It wanted out, though Sam had no idea how to do that. Part of him refused to let it, since he wasn’t sure what it would lead to. When he finished the incantation, he sunk to his knees and waited with baited breath for the Gate to swing open.  
  
The wind died down and the night sky turned clear once again, but the door did not open. It hadn’t worked.  
  
On his knees, too numb to express any emotion, Sam silently cursed the thief who had stolen the Colt from Dean and him and given it to the one demon who wanted Sam dead. If Bela had only done the right thing . . .  
  
“You know, if you wanted to find a way into hell, all you had to do was ask.” A smug, knowing voice broke through the silence.  
  
Sam stood up and turned around to find a woman standing just on the other side of the iron circle. She was pretty, slender with long brown hair that curled around her face. She gazed up at him with a combination of awe and triumph.  
  
Any other person might have wondered how she’d gotten to this place, way off the beaten path, in the middle of the night, but Sam pulled out the demon-killing knife from its sheath and pointed it at her. “Who are you?” he demanded hoarsely, fighting the tide of anger that suddenly surged through him.  
  
“Maybe you should put that pig sticker somewhere else,” she said and smirked. “Doesn’t belong to you to begin with.”  
  
“And how would you know?” he said. His hands gripped the knife and glared at the figure in front of him.  
  
She folded her arms and regarded him openly. “Gosh, you don’t remember, Sam? I’m shocked. After everything I did to try and help you save your brother, and this is the thanks I get?”  
  
It took a moment for her words to sink in, and as he watched her eyes flash to solid black, Sam realized that it was Ruby that stood before him – clad in another woman’s body. “Ruby?” he whispered.  
  
“In the flesh, so to speak.”  
  
“Lillith said she sent you far away,” he said and kept the knife pointed at her. “I assumed she’d meant Hell, where you belong.”  
  
“You know what happens when you assume,” she said and tisked a few times. “I thought you smarter than that.”  
  
“Yeah, because you’ve been so helpful in the past. Dean’s dead, and you did nothing to help out.” He pointed the dagger at Ruby’s face. “Tell me why I shouldn’t use this to kill you outright.”  
  
“Because I know you don’t want to kill the girl who’s in here with me,” she replied and smirked.  
  
Sam lowered the knife slowly and looked down at it. Unfortunately she was right: he hadn’t tried to use the knife since his short battle with Lillith. He could no longer stomach the idea of potentially killing the innocent victim who, for all he knew, might still be alive and trapped because of the possession. The problem was, outside of exorcism, Sam had no other method of defeating the demons still lurking out there, waiting to possess and wreak havoc.  
  
He was totally alone, and his tortured thoughts once again returned to the brother he had utterly failed to save.  
  
“Go to Hell, Ruby,” he muttered without looking up at her. _If only I knew how to do that without hurting the person I’m looking at . . ._  
  
“Sam, I know what you’re going through,” she said in a soft voice that caught Sam off guard and raised the hairs on the back of his neck. “Don’t think I haven’t been watching what you’ve been trying to do.”  
  
“What do you know about it?” he demanded.  
  
“You’re trying to save Dean, aren’t you? Buried him in a shallow grave because you thought there was a chance that you could somehow pull him out of hell and back into his body.” She sighed and started walking around the iron circle that separated them. “Too bad you didn’t want to listen to me to begin with, or you wouldn’t be in this pickle.”  
  
Dean’s voice screamed at him to kill the bitch, to use her knife and bury it into her heart. Instead, he put it away and glared at her. “I said go to hell, Ruby. Don’t make me toss you in this circle and exorcise your sorry ass.”  
  
“You can try,” she laughed, “but I don’t think you’ll want to, not after what I have to offer you.”  
  
Sam wanted to laugh: it was like they had come full circle from the first time they’d have this conversation. “You didn’t help me then. Why should I believe you now?”  
  
“Because I can show you how to use your abilities,” she responded. “Not like Dean’s around to say no, is there? He can’t play Daddy anymore, because he’s dead. Don’t you want to know more about those moments of intense power you’ve felt lately when exorcising or doing your do-gooder ‘good deed’ for the day? Don’t you wish there was a way to let it out?”  
  
Sam bit back the bitter retort he wanted to shoot at her, because part of it was true. Dean wasn’t around, and Sam had to find some way to protect himself against further demonic attack. If he was somehow immune to Lillith’s powers, what other higher level demons roamed the earth, looking for him? “So you’re saying you’re willing to . . . what, lead me down the path to righteousness?” he snapped.  
  
“Uh no, not really. Think those powers of yours are God-given?”  
  
Sam didn’t know what to believe, especially since he had never experienced a return in abilities since the Yellow-Eyed Demon was dead. “You want to teach me about them,” he stated.  
  
“Gosh, aren’t you smart?” she retorted and stopped in front of him. “Give a gold star to the Man of the Hour.”  
  
“Cut the crap, Ruby,” Sam said and bent down to gather up his things. “Why should I listen to a word you’ve said? How could you possibly teach me anything?”  
  
“Because there’s no guarantee you can protect your little girlfriend Emma from harm if you don’t.”  
  
Ruby’s thinly veiled threat made Sam freeze with momentary shock and fear. What in the hell did she mean? What was after Emma, and how could he stop it? “What?” he whispered and slowly stood up. Towering over the demon, he balled his fists, fire in his eyes. “What did you say?”  
  
“You think anyone you know is safe from the demons out looking for you?” Ruby asked, a knowing look on her face. “Think they aren’t going to try and get to _her_ as a way to get to _you_?”  
  
“Who’s threatening her?”  
  
“I am, for the moment.” Ruby’s lips curled into a sinister smile, one that Sam wished to rub off permanently.  
  
“If you so much as _touch_ a hair on her head . . .” he threatened.  
  
“You’ll what, catch me and kill me?” she mocked. “And kill this pretty girl who’s meat I’m wearing? Please, cue the scary music so I can quake in my boots.”  
  
“I mean it,” Sam warned and reached out to grab her.  
  
“So do I, Sam,” Ruby replied and jumped out of the way. “She’s in danger if you don’t learn how to take care of yourself and prepare for the battles ahead. Don’t want to see her die, too, do you?”  
  
Sam shook his head in silent acknowledgement that there is no way he could ever allow any harm to come to Emma. She meant too much to him, despite the yawning chasm between them, one that grew bigger every day. “What’s in it for you?” he asked quietly.  
  
“Nothing much, just to be able to help you out once in awhile. Teach you how to use your abilities to save people. That’s all.” She shrugged.  
  
A voice inside him – the one that always sounded like Dean – warned him to not take the deal, to let sleeping dogs lie and find another way to learn how to survive. To deal with the demon blood in him. _There’s always another way, Sam. Remember what Dad taught you. Remember what I taught you._  
  
He shuddered with the memory and knelt down to gather his things. “I’ll think about it,” he said loudly. “Now go away.” He grabbed his duffel bag and stood back up. He looked around and realized that he was alone. The demon had taken him at his word and disappeared.  
  
How he wished she had taken this new burden on his shoulders when she did.  
  


  
  
**_Nashville, Tennessee_**  
  
The small diner where they had agreed to meet seemed the perfect place to talk, since the booth where they sat was safely tucked away in the back of the room, shrouded in darkness to afford a little privacy. However, Sam had insisted on sitting with back against the wall to be on the watch out for anyone who looked suspicious waltz through the door.  
  
“So I reckon you’re not doing so well in trying to bring Dean back?” Emma asked and took a sip of her tea.  
  
Sam shook his head, looked back to her, and tried to smile. “I literally tried everything, Emma. There’s nothing. It’s . . . Dean’s dead. He’s in hell. And I can’t . . . there’s nothing I can do about it.” Unwanted tears pricked his eyes, so he looked away to compose himself.  
  
The touch of her hand on his nearly undid him. “Sam,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry. You have no idea how much I wonder if you’re okay sometimes, even though I know you’re strong enough to get through anything.”  
  
Sam thought about Ruby’s offer and wondered how strong Emma might think of him if she knew he was about to make a deal with a demon. “I’m okay,” he insisted. “Really, I’ll make it.” He looked into her dark hazel eyes and wanted to lose himself there, to bury himself into her and forget about the world. For a moment, he wished it could be the two of them – alone, far away from this insanity, and safe.  
  
“Yeah, and I’m the pope,” Emma said and cocked an eyebrow at him. “If you’re so okay, why are you looking at me like you’re never going to see me again?”  
  
_Because maybe I shouldn’t_ , he thought. “Maybe I just missed you,” he countered and smiled. “Been a long two weeks.”  
  
Her laughter filled his ears: it was the most beautiful sound in the world. “Mr. Winchester, you lookin’ to get laid or something?” she asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes.  
  
“Who said anything about sex?” he asked. “I just said it’s been a rough two weeks.”  
  
“Guess it’s a good thing I managed to get a room next to yours in that flea-bitten motel you’re staying in,” she replied with a grin. He must have registered surprise, because she reached for his hand and squeezed it playfully. “Oh come on, y’all hunters really aren’t that different. I’m figuring out how to look for you,” she said. “At least, when I happen to get lucky and learn which city you’re in.”  
  
“Quick study,” he remarked and thread his fingers through hers.  
  
“Mostly just motivated, when I know there’s someone worth-while to work for.”  
  
Sam gazed at her and studied the earnestness in her eyes. Emma was trying to tell him something, almost a confession etched into her face. Her soft, lovely voice spoke of things she wished were true, of what could happen one day. _What if . . ._  
  
“Emma,” he whispered, “I’m not worth fighting for.”  
  
“You’re also a liar, you know that?” she whispered back. “Anything else on your mind? You look like you’re worried about something.”  
  
He glanced at their intertwined fingers and brushed one of her fingers with the pad of his thumb. “Just promise me something,” he whispered.  
  
“Anything for you,” she said and smiled.  
  
“Promise me you’ll never take off that charm I gave you, and if something happens . . . let me know.” Sam looked up at her, saw the surprise and open curiosity there, and smiled wryly. “Just the usual stuff, okay?”  
  
Emma nodded her head, but Sam wondered how convinced she actually was. However, she only smiled and nodded. “Okay,” she replied, “but I know something’s up with you. Might have to torture it outta you before I leave.” She grinned at him, anticipation in her eyes that Sam had no intention of ignoring.  
  
Their fingers still locked together, Sam used his free hand to motion to the waitress for their check. They still had the rest of the day to spend together, and he wanted to make the most of it. His time with Emma was important, more important than ever letting her know that he was willing to bargain with a demon and possibly lose his soul to keep her safe.


End file.
